A Day Of Art

A Day Of Art

The sun streams along a wall of glass, portraying odd areas of glare while I’m staring at it. I’m in Tokyo’s national art center, one of the last days of the shadows exhibit to be exact. I’ve been strolling around for a while now and have still not located the physical exhibit, though there are plenty of signs attempting to show me the way. I decide to ask a guard positioned by one of the main doors. He’s in a casual black suit with small gold buttons almost appearing to be stitched in, there’s also a violet stained handkerchief in a small chest flap of the suit, and he’s equipped with some gray black dress jeans. After making small talk with a man about the weather today, partly cloudy with a forty percent chance of showers, the guard lets me know that the Shadows setup is in Gallery 2c as I make my way there. Upon sitting at one of the mahogany shaded benches, conveniently placed along the back divider facing the exhibit, I peer in Wonder at the art on display. There are numerous works about shadow and shade, darkness and light, the truth and lies. I gaze at one about a man standing on rubble and rocks with his hand and arm in the air, his fingers clenched on something. He might be a samurai declaring war, preparing to fight and die for the Bushido or a sage of magic and medicine from long ago, he is completely shadowed so I am unsure. There’s another interesting piece portraying a woman cradling a baby above her abdomen, though her facial features and parts of her arms are shadowed, relaying the effects of something sinister, and ill intentions. I glance around for a little while longer before heading out of the gallery and right over to Salon de la Rond, a very serene tea shop. The eatery is literally shaped like a coffee mug, with the bottom being pulled inwards like a cone. A rough translation is lounge of the round, and it holds up, not just because the cone is suspended above ground either. I order a small coffee, black, and take a seat at a table next to a gentleman with more than a few years on me, we start to chat. The man tells me how he too thought the shadow exhibit at first sounded quite amazing, then was a bit of a letdown. He also tells me how an upcoming show of American art might be interesting, especially since he can’t make it out to the western art center quite a ways from here. I thank him for the conversation upon leaving, and offer to throw away his empty cup, which he agrees to. On my way down along the street from the entrance, I look back at the wave like building and observe how the sun streams along a wall of glass, portraying odd areas of glare while I’m staring at it.